


Made From Stardust (Drarry)

by PumpkinPastilles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: #Drarry, #boyxboy, #girlxgirl, #harrypotter - Freeform, #linny, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6569188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinPastilles/pseuds/PumpkinPastilles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Pre-War) It's dark. It's lonely. Draco only wanted some company that wasn't an annoying ghost in the girls' bathroom at Hogwarts. What he got instead during those nightmare-induced days was something much more. Something powerful. Something angry. Something so fierce, maybe it would just be enough to chase away Draco's demons... And the hiding Dark Lord, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made From Stardust (Drarry)

Draco's hands were shaking. Always shaking. As was his heart, which trembled and shuddered in the eerie silence of the Dining Room in Malfoy Manor. The room was dark, and fellow Death Eaters sat along the lengthy table. Draco looked away when Nagini started coiling around Voldemort's bony ankles. 

Draco could taste blood. The metallic, bitter liquid was slowly rising up his throat, and pricked his shaking fingertips, and rose up his neck to create a sweet rosy hue on his pale complexion. It wasn't beautiful. It couldn't be. 

Beauty was happiness. And Draco wasn't happy.

Instead, he was cold. So incredibly cold, all the time. Bags were formed underneath his grey eyes, and he was always so exhausted. From his Father forcing him to endure curse after curse fired at him, from the strong paranoia that plagued his "sleep," from having to withstand being in the same room as all those horrible people. Those vile, disgusting, horrible people. 

Draco was a bully. He admitted that. He embraced it and opened up to it and was learning to move on. But these people---these people weren't just bullies. They were killers. Murderers. 

Draco wasn't a murderer. He wasn't, and he never wanted to become one even by the technicality of having the hateful Dark Mark on his left forearm. He wasn't a Death Eater.

But he was. Even by the smallest judgement and tiniest amount. He still had the Mark on his skin. 

And that was killing him

Slowly, terribly, and surely...

**Author's Note:**

> "I didn't want any of this," choked out Draco, his right hand clenched around Harry's. "None of it!"


End file.
